Recruiting
by kimirasarielle
Summary: Malfoy knew exactly who to recruit as Death Eaters: those weak in character and who could be easily swayed. One of his former picks reminisces about his relationship with Malfoy. Note: It isn't Ron, and that's all I'm saying. ;p


A nazi.

That's what Malfoy has always reminded me of, with his pointy little face and his blonde hair and his blue eyes.  A perfect picture of their supposedly perfect race.  And he even acts the part; the stupid prick's prejudiced against everything from muggle-borns to house-elves to Hufflepuffs to... well, just about everyone who isn't a pureblooded, Slytherin, Voldemort boot-licking death eater.  The more I've thought about it, the more it's made sense to me.  Voldemort rules his minions with fear, killing the ones who refuse to join in his service.  He lets them blame everything on the muggles and the muggle-borns.  It's exactly what Hitler did, and frankly, you have to admit, it works.  Life's just so much easier when you have a scapegoat to blame for everything, so you can always feel that you're doing what's right, and that you have some sort of grand ulterior motive in life.  The purification of the wizarding world by killing off all those damned mudbloods.  The purification of the fatherland by exterminating the Jews.

It's kinda hard not to get caught up in all of this, isn't it?  I mean, what's a little lie if it keeps you from being killed?  So I told him that I'd serve and receive the dark mark, and that I'd kill for their fucking dark lord...  But what does it mean if I don't carry through?  It shouldn't mean anything at all!  Of course, the others would have liked it better if I'd just refused, so I could be killed and become a goddamned martyr, even though then it wouldn't do them any good at all, because I'd be dead, and I wouldn't be able to help anyway!

But Malfoy sure recruited me thoroughly enough.  He knew who to pick, who had weaknesses of character, who could easily be swayed to their side.  I was just a sure thing, and he took advantage of that.  

The first time, we had detention together in the potions dungeon.  I remember wondering what in the hell Snape's perfect student could have done to warrant him getting a detention, but I figured it wasn't important, so I just ignored him and went about with my work.  We were supposed to sweep, mop, and dust the entire dungeon by hand.  That sure didn't last long.

After about ten minutes of sweeping, Malfoy just stopped, and leaned against the wall, looking over at me.  It was making me uncomfortable as all hell, but seeing as how I didn't want to pick a fight and get my detention doubled, I kept my mouth shut.  He just stood there staring at me, each minute that went by making me feel infinitely more uncomfortable, until I just couldn't take it anymore.

"What the hell is it, Malfoy?!" I demanded, my voice cracking.  "What the fuck do you want?  Why do you keep staring at me like that?!"

He didn't say a word.  He just stared at me, radiating that detached, cold air he has about him, and I shivered.  I prayed to God, hoping against reason that he would smirk, or raise an eyebrow, or just make fun of me sooner and get it over with.  I couldn't fight back against him; not now, not with all that had been happening lately.  I just wanted him to put me out of my misery.

The thought occurred to me that he wouldn't, ever, that he would just stand there staring at me, allowing my shouting to escalate, while all the time inside he just choked up with laughter, and then went back to his fucking Slytherin dormitories afterward to tell all of his bastard friends about how much fun he had had at my expense.  I was struck by a second idea; that he hadn't gotten detention for doing anything wrong after all, that he had probably asked for it from Snape just so he could have an excuse to come down here and make me miserable the entire time.  

My hands started to shake, and I was about to shout out something else at Malfoy, hopefully to make him leave me alone, when he took a step towards me.  

The words I had been preparing left me, and my breath caught in my throat.  His expression was still unchanged, and just as unreadable, but he was definitely one step closer to me.  Anticipation hung in the air, and all I could do was sit there and wait for him to make the next move, because I knew I was powerless to act against him.  It seemed like an eternity, waiting for him to do something, and I felt something growing and mounting; some unforeseen tension, until... he moved.

In brisk steps he strode forward, straight towards me, and I was taken by a sense of panic.  Should I get out my wand?  Was he going to attack me?  But before I could do anything, he stopped, right in front of me, and then it was too late.  His slate blue eyes tore into mine, and my nervous fidgeting froze, and I was certain he was going to attack me, and then Malfoy reached out his hands, grabbed my shoulders and pressed his lips onto mine.

I have to say I've been kissed by several people since Draco Malfoy, even though perhaps not that many, compared to most of my peers.  I've always been a little more strict about my relationships; or perhaps I'm just more introverted than all of them.  But still, of the few that I have had experience with, none of them have ever been able, or, I suspect, will ever be able, to compare with him.

At first Malfoy just gripped me tightly, as if to keep me from moving away, but there was really nothing I could do.  His mouth burned feverishly against mine, something that seemed impossible in contrast to his cold personality.  When he realized I wasn't pulling away, the blonde slipped his hands up to hold my face possessively.  His lips grew softer for a moment, and then they parted slightly, and I felt his tongue flickering out against my mouth, which was at that moment still impassive to his.

Malfoy's sudden advance shocked me, and I tried to jump back, away from him, but he dug his hands hard into my face, pulling me closer to him, and kissing me forcefully once again.  This time I couldn't do anything to stop him, whether I wanted to or didn't, and his tongue found its way into my mouth as he kissed me deeply and completely.  Somewhere along the line my hands slipped around his waist, and when I realized this I felt a deep pang of resentment at this betrayal, and then I realized that my mouth was willfully cooperating with Malfoy's, and that soon my hands were raking through his hair, and then I heard myself breath out that word I've spoken many times since: "Draco."

By this time my sensible mind had lost the battle, locked away in a tiny dungeon where all it could do was observe and regret everything that was happening to me.  It saw me arch back my head in pleasure as Malfoy moved his mouth down my neck, leaving a hot burning trail behind him.  It saw me even initiating these kisses with him, pressing my body against his in uncontrolled desire.  It saw many other things right there in that room, some of them that night, and some of them afterward.  Soon it was a nightly ritual for us, and I found myself depending on them more than my sane mind knew could be healthy.  From the time I woke up until the time I arrived in the dungeons, all I could think of was Malfoy, and of the things he would do to me that night.  I found myself starting to fail certain classes, and neglecting my friends.  Some of them tried to approach me, to ask me what was going on, but I always found some lie to tell, or I simply blew them off and insisted that I was fine and that absolutely nothing was going on.

Regardless of what anyone else might have thought, it was actually a while before I slept with Malfoy.  Usually we snogged for a while, and then soon we began progressing a little farther, but I wasn't quite ready to take that final step.  For this he asked me to come to the astronomy tower instead of meeting him in the potions dungeon, and when I received his owl post I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.  What did this change in scenery mean?  The astronomy tower was usually used by serious, romantic couples for their midnight liaisons, so maybe –just maybe– this meant that Draco actually cared about me after all!  As this thought ran rampant through my brain, my sane self, still imprisoned, encountered it, and tried to convince me that I was wrong, and that I had always known Malfoy was just interested in me because of his hormones, or for some other ulterior purpose.  But the rest of me, which had fallen horribly in love with the son of a bitch, wouldn't hear one word of it.  All that stupid ignorant fool I had become could think about was that fucking note.

So I went.  And Malfoy was waiting there for me, and as I've already said, we slept together.  Believe it or not, it was pretty spectacular, but then again, everything that had to do with him undoubtedly was.  I wouldn't hesitate even today in backing up the claim that Draco Malfoy was the fuck of the century.  Afterwards, we lay there on the blanket he had brought up from somewhere, and he held me.  Draco Death Eater Malfoy fucking held me, and I thought that if I could die right then and there, I couldn't possibly be happier, because to my depraved little mind, this stupid insignificant fact was solid and undisputable proof that the asshole must have loved me.

The thought didn't even occur to me that the whole time, it had been an act.  Every single liaison we had had, from that first detention, to this night, and every time in between, had been leading up to this single moment, and to one single proposition.

Draco Malfoy proposed to me, and I was in no position to refuse anything at all that he would request from me at that moment.  He proposed ideologies and viewpoints that I hadn't really seriously thought about, but had always considered stupid and obviously wrong.  But my dear Draco was telling me these things, and who was I to doubt anything he said?  Somehow, under the spell that he had woven over me, he managed to plant little seeds in my mind that quickly flourished, convincing me that muggles and muggle-borns were inherently inferior to pureblooded and even half-blooded wizards, and that anyone who deemed to consort with those types of people were also below any shred of dignity, and that the only way to remedy this great injustice was through a complete dedication to the cause. 

His cause, of course, soon became my own.

It wasn't quite as quick as I'm sure Malfoy would've hoped, because he still had to sleep with me a couple more times before the fucker had me completely converted.  By this point, I was ready to become a Death Eater, and ready to kill, because that's what this god, the most perfect person in the entire world, had asked of me.  I have to admit that I was scared shitless when I appeared before Voldemort, but that passed as soon as I reassured myself that this was what Draco wanted.  I was willing to go through any amount of pain and misery for him, and compared to the most horrible pain I can imagine, receiving the dark mark really wasn't all that bad.  

We kept sleeping together, because that was the only way for him to further poison my mind and to keep me under his complete control.  That shred of sanity I had left had retreated so far into the recesses of my soul that it was no more than a bitter and little-remembered dream.  All of the orders the Dark Lord gave me came directly from Draco.  When Draco told me to keep him updated on every current Gryffindor Tower password, I did it happily.  If he asked me to deliver things for him, or to pass along further instructions to other operatives working within Hogwarts, I did it without a second thought.  One day we were meeting together in a small room off of an obscure corridor for a short snog, when he casually gave me my next order: kill Harry Potter.

Looking back on things I can see why Voldemort didn't have Malfoy give me that one right away.  If he had, that little shred of sanity might have somehow surfaced and stopped me, but after doing enough little tasks for my lover, it had all become routine for me, and I knew that this was just another job that I would easily pull off.  

It was quite easy, too.  Draco told me that there were certain shieldings placed within parts of the school that would stop some of the unforgivable curses from being effective, so I would have to either get Potter outside, or cast the spell on him only in certain areas.  Even though Draco seemed a little concerned about my ability to pull this off, I assured him that it would be no problem at all.

Harry was such a fool.  He really did trust his friends and care about them way too much.  I simply went up to him one day while we were all eating in the Great Hall and told him that I needed to talk to him about something.  He seemed relieved; maybe he thought I would finally explain whatever had been bothering and messing with me for so long.  So we went through the castle, and I blabbed about rubbish long enough to kill some time, until we had reached the entrance hall.  Up to this point I had made it sound like I was having trouble with a secret relationship I was having, which was actually almost completely true, even if at the time I didn't think I was having trouble at all.

Potter frowned and his brow furrowed, creasing his scar.  Pretty soon the entire purpose that scar stood for would be destroyed.  "What is it?  Who have you been seeing?"

"Not here..." I whispered.  "Someone might hear me."  He looked a little hesitant, so I made myself sound as nervous and yet still trustworthy as I possibly could.  "Please Harry, let's just step right outside the door."

He went.  Idiot!  I opened the door and held it open for him as the indecision on his face vanished and he walked outside, and as I released the door time slowed down, and it seemed like it took an eternity for the god-damned thing to close.

"Okay," he said, "so who–"

Harry's eyes went a little bit wider in his final moments, as I drew my wand on him and uttered the same words that had given him such fame earlier in his life.  I really couldn't help but take notice of what a spectacular green those eyes were, and watched with a sort of morbid fascination as the color dimmed once he had hit the stone.

I was supposed to meet Malfoy outside of the Slytherin dungeons, at which time he had promised me he would get me out of Hogwarts to a safe place.  When I got there, Malfoy was waiting, just as he had said.  He stood pale-face, frightened out of his wits, and clinging to Snape's arm, accompanied by Dumbledore and several aurors.  

"There!" Malfoy shrieked.  "He told me that he was going to kill Harry– for me!  He's crazy!  He's been following me around for months, and keeps insisting that we have some kind of a relationship!  I wanted to tell someone, to make him stop, but he told me that if I ever breathed a word to anyone he'd either kill me or someone I cared about!  But I just..."  Tears had welled up in the bastard's eyes by this point.  I haven't once stopped marveling at his magnificent acting skills.  "I couldn't take it anymore!  I had to stop him before he did some real damage... and when he told me he was going after Harry Potter..."

Malfoy even got the high-pitched voice and shivering down pat.  If they had given him a dose of Veritaserum, which they may even have done, I doubt they would have gotten anything else out of him.  He was perfect in every way.  I have to imagine that if there really is a devil, he looks a hell of a lot like Draco Malfoy.

So the person I had fallen hopelessly in love with betrayed me, as he had planned on doing all along.  And he had trained me well, because I played the exact part he had hoped I would, and went utterly insane.  Despite my mental state, they still committed me to Azkaban for a five-year or so term.  I don't really remember.  Most people feel that I should've gotten the kiss, but somehow Dumbledore, who always suspects that things aren't exactly what they seem, managed to get me off the hook of that one.  I've never forgiven him.

After enough time in prison I was switched to St. Mungo's.  I don't do much.  I rant and rave and I try to kill myself, which is a very hard task in my straight jacket and padded cell.  Sometimes I think about Malfoy, but usually I can't even remember my own name.  

Of course, while the person locked inside that padded cell might not know anything, I remember it all.  I'm still here, and I'll wait here patiently, in this little iron-barred prison, until some series of brainwaves flows along that maybe, perhaps, contains the key to my little cell.  When I get out of here, I'll fucking kill that nazi.  After all, all's fair in love and war, and I don't think nazis every really approved of homosexuals, either.

Fin.


End file.
